


A New Order

by marysiak



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Anal Sex, Bottom Draco, Bottom Harry, Caning, Corporal Punishment, Death Eaters, Hogwarts Fifth Year, M/M, Order of the Phoenix AU, Spanking, Top Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-07-16 12:22:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7268062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marysiak/pseuds/marysiak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Diverges from canon after book 4. During the summer the Death Eaters depose Dumbledore from Hogwarts and replace him with a new headmaster - Lucius Malfoy. Despite this Harry is determined to finish his education. In an all new regime corporal punishment is rife and the boys and girls are separated from each other. But when Harry bumps into Draco Malfoy one night on the Astronomy Tower things change even more. Based on old fashioned British boarding schools of the 1950s and earlier. Although this was sort of written to be longer I don't think I ever actually had a plot in mind so it will have to stand alone. I think it works as is. It's just some kinky porn with a fairly detailed AU background.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Astronomy Tower

**Harry Potter and The New Order**

**by Marysia (October 2002)**

Harry was feeling very cut off and a little frightened. He tried not to be but he was deathly afraid that the one good thing in his life was falling apart. That the only home he had ever known might be lost to him. Hogwarts. The world of wizards and magic and people he cared about and that cared about him.

It had been two months since the death of Cedric Diggory. Two months since his childhood had officially ended. In the time since he had returned to Privet Drive from school he had heard very little from the wizarding world but what he had heard worried him... and now this. His letter as regards the start of the new school year had arrived. It was at this moment sitting on his bed across the room from where he sat on the floor against the wall looking at it.

The letter read...

'HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Lucius Malfoy  
(Order of Merlin, Grand Sorc., International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter,

Please be informed that term starts on the 1st of September.

We enclose a list of all necessary new books and equipment.

Yours sincerely,  
Minerva McGonagall  
Deputy Headmistress'

Harry couldn't quite take it in, he'd thought maybe it was a joke... or just a mistake. You couldn't just become headmaster without being a teacher first... could you? But Lucius Malfoy had been on the school's board of governors before the events during 2nd year had lost him his position and Harry had known from reading between the lines of the few letters he'd had from Ron and Sirius and the occasional suspicious Muggle headline that things weren't right. Not least the fact that he hadn't heard from Hermione at all. He could tell there were things Ron and Sirius weren't telling him.

This wasn't happening. It wasn't possible that a Death Eater had taken Dumbledore's place at Hogwarts. And where was Dumbledore?

He looked numbly over his equipment list...

'For your fifth year you will be required to have...

Clothes:  
1 plain pointed hat (black)  
3 sets of plain work robes (black)  
1 pair of sensible shoes (black, brown or navy)  
1 pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)  
1 winter cloak (black with silver fastenings)  
2 sets of gym robes (red)  
1 pair of running sandals  
3 jock straps (white or black)  
1 set of dress robes  
Please note all items of clothing must carry a name tag and should be correctly fitted and in good condition.

Set Books:  
The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5 by Miranda Goshawk  
A Study of Advanced Dark Arts by Darius Malfoy  
Potions You Wish You Didn't Need by Suspectus Mannir  
Unusual and Dangerous Magical Creatures by Unus Limm  
Unfoiling Curses (5th ed) by Dirk Knight  
The Modern British Wizard by Arian Schimmel

Other Equipment:  
1 fully functional wand  
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)  
1 set glass or crystal phials  
1 set brass scales

Students may also bring ONE animal from the following; owl, cat, toad, snake, rat, spider.

\--------------------

It had been weeks since he had written Ron but it was only six days before he was due to go back to school that he got a reply.

'Dear Harry,  
I'm sorry Ron has not written back to you, I'm afraid we   
simply weren't sure what to say until now and we did not  
want to alarm you in case you tried to leave your aunt and  
uncle's house where you are safe. My wife did not want our  
children or you to return to Hogwarts but I will not let what  
is happening stop you from getting an education. Professor  
McGonagall is still deputy headmistress and I and Professor   
Dumbledore trust her to keep the school going despite the   
best efforts of Lucius Malfoy. You will simply have to endure   
this as we have had to. Do not worry about Dumbledore, he is   
in good health though understandably upset by current events.   
Please meet us at the Leaky Cauldron at midday on the 31st   
of August, let us know if you can't make it. We will be spending   
the night there before taking the children to Platform 9 3/4.  
Sincerely,  
Arthur Weasley'

\----------------------

Harry decided to catch the Night Bus. He was in no mood to pester his aunt and uncle for a lift to London and he couldn't get all his belongings onto public transport without help. So he set off on the evening of the 30th wondering if there was a Day Bus that he could have caught instead, sometimes it was really annoying not knowing all this stuff. They really ought to have a handbook or something, A Muggles Guide to the Wizarding World, or, So You're Really A Wizard: 100 Useful Things To Know. Maybe he'd write one someday.

He arrived at The Leaky Cauldron a little after midnight and arranged for a room for two nights. It was terribly tempting to ask about Hogwarts, to ask for news, but something about the look on Tom's face stopped him. He looked too happy to see Harry, as if he thought Harry could solve all his problems.

"Going back to Hogwarts?" he wheezed. "That's good news, knew you would. Harry Potter after all, eh? Not afraid of anything."

Harry smiled weakly and nodded.

"Get things sorted out in no time I'm sure, eh?"

Harry smiled again, feeling hollow, and closed his door. He hoped the Weasley's were on time, he had to find out what was going on.

\--------------------

Unable to wait any longer for the Weasley's, Harry bought a copy of The Daily Prophet after he had finished his breakfast. The front page story was about some scandal in the Ministry of Magic, it didn't mean much to Harry as it didn't seem to involve anyone he knew. Further into the paper was a story about rumoured changes at Hogwarts but there was no real information. Just speculation on new teachers and classes.

\----------------

The moment it really hit Harry was when he disembarked from the Hogwarts Express and heard not Hagrid's voice calling for the first years, but Filch's. The caretakers cracked voice sent a shiver of unpleasant anticipation through him.

The hollow feeling in his stomach only increased when he saw the number of new faces at the teachers table, crowned by the icy satisfaction on the face of their new headmaster, Lucius Malfoy.

"I have several notices to give before we eat," Lucius Malfoy announced. "First, there will be a slight rearrangement of the dormitories. In order to facilitate learning we have decided to separate the girls and boys, as was done in the past. All Gryffindor girls have been moved to the Hufflepuff dormitories, Hufflepuff boys will take the spare rooms in the Gryffindor dormitories. Slytherin girls will go to the Ravenclaw dormitories and Ravenclaw boys to Slytherin. This will not affect the house you belong to, simply the location you sleep in. Classes will also be taken separately as listed in your new timetables. Professor McGonagall, although still deputy headmistress for the entire school, will have full control over the girls while I shall be in charge of the boys. As Professor Flitwick has left the school the new Head of House for Ravenclaw will be Professor Sinistra. I will now introduce your new teachers..."

\---------------

It's funny how different the world is at night when you're sleepy, especially when you've only just woken up. For Harry it wasn't quite like it is for most people, he was used to waking alone and having no one to turn to. No parents bed to run to and hide in from the nightmares. No voices to soothe and sing him to sleep and make the shadows stay away. He'd always had to fight the dark alone and there had always been a lot to fight. He had been prone to nightmares as long as he could remember and with good reason.

These days when he woke in the night, breathless with fear, he often forgot that he wasn't alone unless the snore of one of his room-mates broke the still room and even then, for a moment, the noise would only panic him further before he remembered what it was.

He usually remembered his nightmares and the strange thing was that, unless they were something that was actually happening as they occasionally were, they were never of his enemies. He didn't dream of Voldemort or Wormtail or even Snape or Lucius Malfoy or the Slytherins or at least when he did they weren't what he called nightmares. His nightmares were always about his friends, people he knew, people he trusted. Except in his nightmares they would change and become dark and terrifying. He would be talking to Ron or Hermione and then some cast would come over their faces and their eyes would change and as they stepped toward him he would leap awake in pure terror as if he had gazed upon the very face of evil.

Once he had remembered where he was he invariably got the urge to not be there. He didn't like the silent, sleeping bodies around him. They seemed strangely sinister, as though he couldn't be sure they were really who they should be, hidden behind their curtains. Their breathing haunted him as he grabbed his invisibility cloak, jumping at every creak of the floorboards and rattle of rain against the window.

That night it was bitterly cold and he shivered despite the jumper over his dressing gown and the thick socks and slippers on his feet.

He was tired but he knew if he went back to bed and back to sleep he would slip straight back into the nightmare. The cold kept him awake and made things feel a little more like reality. He headed for the Astronomy tower, the air around him was so cold he knew for sure the stars would be in brilliant display. He would watch them for a little while, as long as he could stand the cold anyway. Which probably wouldn't be long. It wasn't a good idea to be out long anyway and chance another beating for breaking the rules. He never thought he would miss the days of simple detention and lost house points.

He was into the large observatory room and looking for a good place to sit before he realised he wasn't alone. Then the faint movement almost out of his eye line froze him in place. After a second of heart stopping fear of the sort he only felt when nightmares were still following him, he remembered he was invisible still and he pulled himself together and slowly turned to face the movement. 

On the floor, curled under a blanket of some sort with only his eyes and his hair showing, was Draco Malfoy. Furthermore he looked absolutely petrified, his eyes darting around the room. Harry realised he must have made some noise as he came in that Malfoy had heard and been unable to explain. Careful to be silent he knelt down in front of the Slytherin, who was starting to calm down again as the noise didn't repeat itself. It was strange being this close to Malfoy without any glaring or angry words. The last time he had been around Malfoy while invisible Ron had been there too and it hadn't been all that much different from usual. He had scared Malfoy stupid that time as well, but it had been intentional.

He wasn't in the mood for fighting or practical jokes tonight. He didn't want to scare anyone and he found he didn't mind so much that Malfoy was here. Hidden, sleeping people whose faces he had only lately seen in his nightmares were not much use, but awake people who had not featured in his nightmares were rather welcome. Unfortunately he wasn't sure what would happen if he revealed himself to Malfoy, he doubted the other boy would react well to his presence. He knew he wouldn't have if the situation were reversed.

"Pull yourself together," Malfoy muttered to himself. "You're too old to be jumping at shadows. It's not like the castle isn't haunted."

It was odd to hear Malfoy talk to himself, his tone was very different than when he was performing for an audience. Whispering instead of declaring. Consoling instead of sneering. Still a little bitter though, still an edge. So sharp he probably cut himself. He wondered what it would feel like if he just reached out and touched his face. It was strange to be crouching right here, so close, with Malfoy literally staring through him. Despite having spent five years as part of the wizarding world a part of him still couldn't quite believe that someone could look right through him.

Malfoy leaned his head back against the wall and breathed out a long slow breath that spread out in a cloud before him. He still held the blanket up to his neck but more out of a desire for warmth than to hide beneath. Harry studied his face. What was he thinking? Why was he out here? Why did he always go out of his way to get in Harry's way?

Was it just because he was a Gryffindor and Malfoy was a Slytherin? Was it because of his friends? Because he was Harry Potter?

In the strangeness of the moment Harry forgot that just because he couldn't be seen didn't mean he couldn't be heard. Not that he even really intended to say anything out loud as the word dropped from his lips. "Why?"

Malfoy jerked upright instantly, staring straight at Harry. "Wh..." he croaked, then tried again. "Who said that?" His voice sounded young in a way Malfoy's voice never did.

Harry froze himself, even holding his breath. Should he say who he was? Show himself? He should leave, he was pretty sure he should just leave before he made this any worse. Instead he reached up and pulled the Invisibility cloak away from his head.

Malfoy visibly jumped as he appeared but unlike the last time, in front of the Shrieking Shack, he made no more noise than a slight hitched intake of breath and he made no move to run away. "Potter?" he seemed to gather himself and Harry still felt a little detached as if he were not quite there as he watched Malfoy's face change almost in slow motion back into the more familiar sneering mask. It made him age at least a couple of years in appearance. "What are you doing up here? How the hell did you do that?"

Harry felt no urge to speak so he didn't. He pulled the invisibility cloak fully off and held it out to Malfoy in explanation.

"Is that.... an invisibility cloak!"

Harry nodded and folded it up carefully. Holding it in his lap he just looked at Malfoy, not sure what to do next. A shiver ran through him as a draft ran across the room.

"It's cold," said Malfoy, sounding a little confused. "Where did you get an invisibility cloak?"

Harry looked down at it. "It was a gift," he said finally.

Draco gave a soft bark of derisive laughter. "Typical, where would you be if it weren't for the gifts of your many admirers?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked, pulling the cloak to his chest possessively.

"The fastest brooms, invisibility cloaks... how can the rest of us compete. Some of us have to earn what they get."

They were on familiar ground now. "Like those fancy brooms your father bought you and the rest of the Slytherins?" Harry spat.

"You already had a Nimbus 2000, how could I even hope to win without as good a broom?"

"You shouldn't even have been on the team, you bought your way on to it. I had to earn my place."

"I don't think so, McGonagall was just desperate to have the famous Harry Potter on her team. Anyone else would have got detention for disobeying Hooch."

"I wouldn't have been disobeying anyone if you hadn't been causing trouble."

"You would have let Longbottom fight his own battles if you didn't love the attention as much. Harry Potter, protector of the innocent."

"You're one to talk about loving attention. Can't stand not being Daddy's best boy, maybe you should have just stayed at home with your mother."

"At least I have a mother to go home to!"

Harry dropped the cloak, fell forward onto his knees and grabbed Malfoy by the neck. "Keep going and you'll get plenty of attention, showing up at breakfast with half your teeth missing," Harry hissed.

Malfoy just looked up at him with an insolent smirk.

"What the hell are you doing sitting up here anyway?" Harry demanded.

Malfoy shrugged. "None of your business, Potter. I don't recall you telling me what you were doing here, so why should I tell you."

Harry let go of him and picked up the cloak. "Fine," he said. "I don't care anyway." Then, instead of leaving, he put the cloak on the floor against the wall and sat down on it next to Malfoy.

For a little while they mostly ignored each other.

Harry could feel the slight amount of body heat Malfoy was giving off beside him, it was so cold that even a little more heat was something you couldn't help leaning into a bit. He thought he should probably leave, or at least conjure up some heat. He did neither, just pulled his knees tighter to his chest and stuck them under his jumper.

Malfoy looked at him in irritation. "You'll ruin it doing that."

"What?"

"Putting your knees in it, you'll stretch it all out."

"Oh," said Harry looking at Malfoy as if he'd sprouted horns. "Well, I'm cold."

Malfoy made a hmpphing noise that reminded Harry very much of Aunt Petunia, which suddenly seemed very very funny. So funny that Harry couldn't seem to stop himself from laughing.

"What's so funny," Malfoy protested.

Harry shook his head and laughed harder.

"Stop laughing!"

There was nothing like being told to stop laughing to turn amusement into a full out laughter fit. He fell against Malfoy, gasping for breath. It was just all so funny. The most powerful dark wizard in the world was trying to kill him and the one place he had thought was safe was being run by Death Eaters and yet here he was in the freezing cold Astronomy tower being told not to stretch his jumper by Draco Malfoy whom he was sitting with because he was afraid of the dark and to top it all off he was probably going to fail all his OWLs.

Malfoy tried to push him away but Harry was beyond that, he had a feeling that if he tried to stop laughing he might start crying instead and that was the last thing he needed. And even that was funny. Tragi-comic even. He gasped for breath and for a crystal moment of silence he looked at Malfoy and then he moved before he could tell himself what a bad idea this was.

Shoving Malfoy onto his back he pulled away the blanket and attacked the other boy in a manner that made absolute sense to him right then and there. He tickled him.

"What are you!? Hey, get off!" After that he managed to hit just the right spot under Malfoy's ribs and the other boy laughed against his will.

"I've got you now, Malfoy," Harry grinned maniacally. "Now you'll feel the wrath of the great Harry Potter."

"Get... off... stop... it..." gasped Malfoy in between peals of laughter such as Harry had never heard from him before. Pure, childish laughter. It was something Harry hadn't heard much of lately and it was good. Malfoy tried to kick out with his feet but they were tangled in the blanket and Harry pinned them under him.

Finally Harry paused a moment, grabbing Malfoy's hands and holding them against the floor to stop him from getting away. He leant his forehead against Malfoy's chest and panted for breath. Malfoy, too, didn't seem to have enough air for words or further struggle as he lay still and silent underneath him aside from the heaving gasps for oxygen.

As he got his breath back Harry noticed that Malfoy's dressing gown was in disarray and his pyjama top had ridden up. Directly in his line of sight was Malfoy's belly button and he found himself staring at it. Just the idea that Malfoy had a belly button seemed odd. He sometimes almost forgot Malfoy was just a boy, not so very different from everyone else. He thought of him as a cipher, an archetypal bully, a force of nature. Not just a boy with soft pale skin and a small belly button with a line of downy hair leading down from it into the waistband of his pyjamas.

He thought he should probably let go of Malfoy now and leave. He really should.

He brought his head down lower and licked the soft skin next to Malfoy's belly button. He watched it hitch as Malfoy gasped in surprise. His arms pulled slightly but not enough to break Harry's hold on his wrists.

"What are you doing?" Malfoy asked, his voice higher than usual.

Harry licked again, the other side this time and slower, trying to take in everything about the feel and smell and taste of Malfoy's skin as if it might explain something to him. Then he drew back a little and looked up thoughtfully, letting go of Malfoy's wrists. 

Malfoy sat up and scrambled back, tugging his pyjamas back into place and they regarded each other from a distance of a few feet, the air between them occasionally clouded with frozen exhalations.

Before either of them could find anything to say or do the stillness was broken by a shudder of chill that ran through Malfoy's body after being pressed against the cold stone floor. Somehow that seemed to bring down the far too complicated reality of the situation and Harry grabbed his cloak and made a run for it leaving Malfoy sitting alone on the floor wondering what the hell was going on.

\-----------------

Harry had sat awake for a very long time after getting back to bed and as a result he had to be dragged out of bed that morning by his roommates to make it down in time for their morning exercise period. He half tripped down the stairs, shivering in his short gym robes, being roughly pointed in the right direction by Ron who was muttering under his breath about the unfairness of life and Lucius Malfoy.

Harry had to admit he was fitter than he'd ever been but he could live without having to get up an hour earlier than in the past and freeze his arse off running around in the cold morning air in his skimpy gym robes which were sleeveless and only fell to mid thigh with slits up the side. At least a little over a month of doing this every morning meant his legs weren't quite as embarrassing as when they'd started.

As they spilled down the steps and into the fresh and extremely cold morning Harry almost stopped dead as he spotted Malfoy's pale hair among the crowd of green clad Slytherins.

"Come on, come on," shouted their gym teacher, Professor Gonrunin (or Chad as he liked to be called). "We haven't got all bloody morning. Quick march. Into place before we all freeze to the ground." Chad was a loud, cheerful man that Harry had a strong distrust for although he couldn't quite explain why. He was very friendly and always called the boys by their first names.

They formed into rough lines, shivering in the extremely early winter, to start their warm up. They were well practiced by now having done the same routine every morning, first warm up and stretching in rows then off on a five mile run round the grounds. The whole male student population of the school, about one hundred and fifty in total, in a straggled panting row of red, green, blue and yellow. If you didn't make it back in time to clean up for breakfast then you didn't get breakfast. The girls were not expected to do this in the morning for reasons that escaped Harry and Ron, they did however have a compulsory gym class before dinner which seemed to be similar although the boys were very strictly forbidden from watching in case they were struck with uncontrollable lust at the sight of the girls in their gym robes. Ron thought that was very unfair too. 

Harry fell into his usual almost trance state and by the time they started running his brain was barely functioning at all since all it needed to do was put one foot in front of the other and follow the people in front of him. It turned out Harry was actually a natural long distance runner, Chad said it wasn't surprising given his build and Harry supposed that all those years of running away from Dudley had probably helped too. As a result it wasn't long before he was near the front of the line with the other strong runners, leading the way around the lake. He seemed to be waking up now, the thought of a hot shower and a good breakfast making the day seem not too bad after all.

He realised with a start that he was running a little behind Malfoy, this shouldn't have surprised him as Malfoy was always near the front of the line. He was one of the best runners in the school and Harry suspected that his father had been making Malfoy do this every morning a lot longer than he'd been inflicting it on the entire school. 

As he watched the boy in front of him run, unconsciously matching his stride, he wondered what Malfoy thought of his father being headmaster. At first he had assumed things would be made pretty easy for the Slytherins under the new regime, and in a way they were, but oddly enough they didn't seem to be for Malfoy. At first the boy had been as cocky as usual but there had been a brittleness to it and it had faded over the last month. Snape was as easy on him as he'd ever been but most of the other teachers were far harsher on Malfoy than the other Slytherins and his father was the worst of all. If his father or one of the new teachers he had hired caught Malfoy doing anything even slightly out of line he was dragged off to the headmaster's office and you could tell he had been beaten when he reappeared if you looked carefully. It was visible in the stiff line of his shoulders or a slight limp or the way he winced slightly as he sat down and sometimes even more clearly than that by visible bruises on his face and legs.

Harry was no stranger to Lucius Malfoy's hand himself and he and Ron often bore their own bruises after being caught fighting with the Slytherins in the corridors or talking in class or just not knowing the answer to a question or getting a low mark on an essay. Ron in particular fell foul of the teachers, a combination of the Weasley temper and his bad studying habits which had deteriorated further without Hermione to help him.

At first he and Hermione had been utterly horrified by this new form of discipline, in fact Mrs Weasley had withdrawn Ginny from school after she had been caned for talking back to a teacher. Ginny had been furious that her mother thought she couldn't handle what her brothers could but in truth Mrs Weasley had wanted to take them all out the school and only the boys refusal to leave had stopped her. Harry hadn't found it quite so hard to adjust, he had felt the back of Uncle Vernon's hand often enough and on occasion his belt as well. The cane was new to him and it bloody stung, but he could take it. He'd lived through Cruciatus after all, what was a little beating after that?

What he really hated was the separation of boys and girls. Not because he longed to moon over them or whatever, but simply because he missed Hermione. They scarcely saw her these days with separate common rooms, separate classes and even meals eaten at different ends of their house table. Hermione felt it even more strongly as she had never got on well with her fellow female classmates and now that Ginny had left she really did have no-one to talk to anymore. The three of them met up occasionally in secret but they had been caught last time and although they hadn't seen Hermione to see how much trouble she had got from it both he and Ron had been beaten black and blue for being out after dark, fraternising with a girl and for talking back when they were caught. Ron still hadn't got the hang of not digging them in deeper.

Filch had been delighted, being allowed to beat the pupils more than made up for still not being allowed to chain them up by their ankles. Lucius Malfoy believed in short, sharp shock techniques rather than long term torture. A good hard beating then back to your classes.

Not that everything Lucius Malfoy had instituted was completely awful.

These early morning runs had their pros and their cons and some of their new timetable was actually pretty interesting. But Harry couldn't easily accept anything that Lucius Malfoy, and therefore Voldemort, condoned. The extra dueling and more practical Dark Arts classes might seem like fun but the reasoning behind it was no doubt to lead them towards Voldemort's side. Their new Care of Magical Creatures classes were more informative but their teacher was no Hagrid and he was constantly aware of an unpleasant agenda behind everything. On the other hand he didn't have to take Divination anymore, only people who showed definite talent were allowed to continue the class.

He was contemplating the crappiness of the current situation so hard that he ran right into the back of Malfoy when the other boy came to a halt on the grass outside the doors of the school. Malfoy was bowled right over since Harry had been running full out and paying no attention to anything but his thoughts and Malfoy's arse, completely unaware they were at the end of their run.

He rolled over and looked up at Harry in anger and confusion, his knees and arms were stained green by the grass to match his robes. 

"What the fuck are you playing at, Potter?" he spat when he saw who had knocked him over.

"Sorry," Harry blurted before he could think better of it.

"Sorry?" Malfoy snarled, Harry's apology seemed to send him into a rage. "You're sorry!" He got to his feet. "I'll make you bloody sorry," he said darkly then leapt at Harry.

Harry threw his hands up to ward Malfoy off and was knocked flat on his back, Malfoy promptly punched him hard.

They couldn't have picked a worse time to be fighting on the school steps. Harry had just managed to wrestle Malfoy under him and was raising an arm to punch him in the eye when his arm was grabbed and he was pulled to his feet by it. He was still looking down at Malfoy and he saw fear chase away the anger in his face as he saw who was holding Harry's arm. Harry looked round and into the face of Lucius Malfoy who was looking right past him and regarding his son in cold fury. "Follow me," he hissed at Malfoy and without even looking at Harry he began to drag him into the school.

He pushed Harry and Malfoy ahead of him and walked behind them, they both knew where they were going. The headmaster's office. Harry had seen more of it in one month than he had in almost his entire previous three years at Hogwarts. There were certain boys that Lucius Malfoy made a point of chastising himself whenever possible, Harry was one of the select few, as was his son. The other boys he mostly left to the rest of the teachers and Argus Filch. All the boys kept close track of their punishments in a strange sort of competition. This would be Harry's fifth time in the headmaster's office this year and his fourth caning of the week. Although they'd all been pretty minor events this week, for which he'd been thankful as he still bore the marks from last Saturday's punishment for meeting with Hermione. He hadn't been able to sit down on Sunday.

Harry had never been up here at the same time as Malfoy and it made him nervous. Getting a beating was one thing but getting a beating in front of Malfoy was another, particularly from his father. Of course he'd been caned in front of Malfoy before in class but that was usually just a few fast swats to the hand or the arse. He could pretty much guarantee that much at least once every Potions class. Lucius Malfoy put far more into it than that.

He pushed Harry down across the desk without saying a word and Harry simply assumed the position and tried to forget that there was anyone else there. His cheek pressed to the wood of the desk and his hands gripping the sides he closed his eyes and relaxed, it hurt less if you were relaxed.

With a casual flip of his cane Lucius Malfoy swept the hem of Harry's gym robes up over his back and with a practiced hand he administered six hard strikes to the sensitive skin at the top of the thigh. Harry managed with no more than a muffled mph through his tightly pressed lips.

When no more blows fell Harry stood up and stepped away, he made to leave but was stopped by a sharp word from Lucius Malfoy, the first time he had spoken to him the whole time. "Stay, Potter!" he ordered, but when Harry turned back he saw that Lucius was still looking at his son. Harry stood uncertainly by the door as he realised that this had very little to do with him at all.

Malfoy's face was a picture of horror and he was actually foolish enough to start to protest. "Father, you..." he trailed off at the look on his father's face.

"Be silent!" he ordered. "What am I supposed to do with you? Fighting on the school steps like a common muggle. I try, Draco. I try to instruct you in the way to behave but you will not listen. Over the desk!"

With one last angry, trapped look at Harry, Malfoy bent over the desk.

As he had with Harry, Lucius Malfoy flipped the hem of his gym robes up over his back and Harry stared in flushed embarrassment, somehow unable to tear his eyes away. Malfoy was wearing a jock strap as they were all supposed to wear for gym, Harry had refused to do so on the grounds that it was positively indecent and really uncomfortable. The jock strap in question was black and Malfoy's skin stood out like a beacon framed by it, the dark green gym robes and the mahogany of the desk he was leaning on. It was almost as if there were a spotlight shining on him, Harry couldn't seem to see anything but that pale skin and the patina of fading bruises that marked it already. Some of them were at least as recent as the past couple of days.

Lucius Malfoy rested the end of the cane on Draco's backside as he talked in a weary tone. "I keep thinking this will be the last time, that you will learn the lessons I try and teach you. Why do you continue to defy me? Have you grown to like the pain you continually force me to inflict on you? Perhaps a little humiliation will accomplish what simple pain does not."

Harry realised he was talking about his presence and shrank back against the door. He did not want to be here for this, Malfoy hated him enough as it was.

"This fighting will stop."

With a sharp slash he brought the cane up and back down. As Draco jerked slightly under the force of the blow Harry became aware that he had never really been hit that hard. Rather than pull back at the end of the swing making a loud crack and a stinging pain that faded, Lucius Malfoy used a driving blow on his son that landed and stayed making a dull slap. Harry started to wonder how old some of the marks on Malfoy's body were. He finally managed to tear his eyes away and looked down at the floor, somehow it didn't help. He wished he could stop up his ears so he didn't need to hear the sound of the cane striking flesh, the desk scraping a little against the floor as Malfoy jerked hard enough to move it, the little gasps of breath that occasionally came close to an expression of pain but were held back by what must be an iron will. Was it his father he didn't want to show weakness in front of or was it Harry's presence that kept him silent? Please let it be over soon, make him stop soon.

Ten.

Fifteen.

Harry had his eyes screwed closed now and his back pressed hard against the door as if he could merge with it and fall out the other side. He should stop this himself, it wasn't right, but what could he do? He didn't even have his wand as there was nowhere to carry it when running. He should speak out...

Twenty.

There was a lull and Harry opened his eyes when the rhythm of strikes was broken. He glanced up through his hair uncertainly.

Lucius Malfoy was standing again as before, with the end of the cane resting on Malfoy's backside which was no longer pale but criss-crossed with dark red marks. Just as Harry breathed a sigh of relief that it was over he stepped back, moved the cane to his other hand and began again.

Harry was so shocked that he didn't look away immediately but stared open mouthed as he began just above Malfoy's knees and worked his way methodically up the backs of his thighs.

"I expect this lesson to take Draco," he said calmly, as if it were perfectly normal and understandable to be doing this. "As such I will make sure you feel it every time you sit down for a week or more. At the very least I'm sure you will be in no hurry to misbehave again until these have faded. If you do I shall simply have to try harder to find something that works. Perhaps we'll try this in front of the entire school next time."

Harry looked down at the floor again and realised with a gulp that for the first time ever he felt sorry for Draco Malfoy. More than that he wanted to help him, somehow. This was his fault, it was his behaviour last night that had provoked Malfoy to attack him this morning. His lack of attention that had led to the confrontation in the first place by knocking the other boy over. His presence that must be making this even harder for Malfoy than it normally was.

And then there was that... harder than it normally was.

All those times he had seen bruises on Malfoy's face, bruises on his legs. Seen them and barely thought about it. No-one else carried bruises like Malfoy's around the school and he could make excuses and say he'd just thought Malfoy's pale skin bruised easily or showed the marks more but that wasn't true. He'd never thought that. The truth was he hadn't cared why Malfoy carried so many more bruises that lasted so much longer than anyone else's, in fact from time to time he'd even thought that it served him right for being such an annoying git. Just Malfoy getting what he deserved.

Malfoy had started to make a low muffled grunt every time the cane struck him, obviously unable to stay completely silent any longer.

Harry thought he might be sick.

He slid down the door slowly until he was sitting on the floor and waited for it to be over. He didn't realise it was until he heard Lucius Malfoy speak to him.

"Get up, Potter. What are you doing on the floor?"

Harry scrambled to his feet and glanced in Malfoy's direction. As their eyes met, Malfoy's flashed with anger and humiliation, his face was pale and blotchy and his cheeks were wet with tears of pain. Tears Harry knew Malfoy would be in no hurry to forgive him seeing, which was a little unfair since Harry would at this point have given almost anything to not have had to see what had just occurred. In fact he would rather have endured it than observed it.

Lucius Malfoy looked him over with disgust at Harry's obvious distress. "Get out, both of you. Don't let me see you again today, Draco, I have had enough of you."

Despite his desire to be out of there it was Malfoy who moved first to open the door and leave. Harry stared at Lucius Malfoy a moment in dumb confusion before he pulled himself together a little and followed Malfoy out.

He watched the top of Malfoy's head descend the staircase in front of him, he reached one hand out to the banister and Harry saw it was shaking. When they reached the bottom Malfoy actually stopped in the corridor and leaned his forehead on the wall, Harry could see that his legs were trembling. He could also see the trail of red marks running down the back of his thighs to the pale skin behind his knees.

"Malfoy..." Harry began hesitantly, reaching out a hand to touch the other boys shoulder.

Before he reached Malfoy the other boy straightened up with a jerk. "Piss off, Potter," he said in a pale imitation of his usual tone. "I'm fine." With that he started to walk stiffly away from Harry.

"I could...."

Malfoy spun around, anger spitting from his eyes. "I told you to piss off, Potter. I don't need anything from you so you can just forget you were even here. If you tell anyone..."

"I won't..."

"Shut up!" Malfoy seemed consumed by fury and Harry thought it might be the only thing keeping him standing, so he shut up. "I will kill you, Potter. Understand? If you breathe one word of this to anyone."

He turned away again and Harry watched him limp down the hall.

\--------------------

Harry didn't tell anyone what had really happened. He let everyone assume that Malfoy had got no worse than Harry had, if anything at all, and it left an unpleasant sinking feeling in his stomach that everyone was so quick to assume Harry had got into more trouble than Malfoy.

All day he felt himself keeping an eye out for the other boy but he didn't see him once. Not in classes, not in meals. He began to worry. Could Malfoy have gone to Madame Pomfrey? Somehow he didn't think so, the pride that had held Malfoy up in front of Harry would stop him from seeking assistance from the school nurse as well.

By the time dinner was done Harry was thinking about nothing else, he still felt responsible for what had happened. As he climbed the stairs to the Gryffindor common room he decided it was time for another night time wander under the cover of his invisibility cloak.

Making his way to the Slytherin common room was easy enough, he knew where it was after all. Getting inside was harder. He stood outside for what felt like forever in the grip of intense indecision and an odd sort of churning in the pit of his stomach that reminded him a little of how he felt before he had a big Quidditch match. He had absolutely made up his mind that it was his duty to check Malfoy was all right, but still the sheer nervous terror that was building up made him almost leave several times before he managed to sneak in along with a bunch of third year Ravenclaw boys. This was ridiculous. All right, maybe he had stepped a little over the line with Malfoy last night... okay, a lot over the line. It really wasn't done to just go around licking people because you felt like it, even if they did taste really good. But that was last night and this was today and the two events had nothing to do with one another. There would be no more licking and Malfoy had bigger things to be upset about than Harry taking liberties with his stomach.

The common room had changed considerably since the last time he had been here. The room was now split down the middle with one side of the room decorated in Slytherin green and silver and the other in Ravenclaw blue. Harry's eyes flicked over the changes as he made his way to the staircase up to the Slytherin boys dormitories. Sometimes he felt it was the little changes that bothered him the most, the insidiousness of it. He missed his own common room's cheery red glow, now split in half with one side in Hufflepuff yellow and black.

Proceeding slowly he located the 5th year Slytherin boys dorm, the door was standing open and he walked straight in. The dorm room was quiet and all the beds bar one were unoccupied. That one stood at the furthest end and had the curtains drawn around it. Harry walked over to it and going around to the side hidden from the door he peered between the curtains. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim interior of the bed but eventually he made out the shape of pale shoulders and after a minute he could see Draco Malfoy lying on his stomach under a light blanket. His face was turned in Harry's direction but his eyes were closed and it looked like he was asleep.

Harry wondered what to do now. Should he just leave again? He'd checked on Malfoy, Malfoy was alive. What now? As his eyes grew more accustomed to the darkness he began to see more, details like old bruises on his back and in the faint light that filtered through the crack Harry had made in the curtains he could see that Malfoy had been crying. It seemed wrong that Malfoy should cry. Not real tears, not alone in the darkness like Harry did. Fake tears, crocodile tears, yes, but not real tears.

Before he could think better of it Harry moved carefully onto the bed and closed the curtains behind him. He sat in the darkness wondering what to do now, should he wake him up? He had a feeling Malfoy wouldn't be terribly pleased to see him. Despite that he reached out and ran a finger gently over one of the bruises on his shoulders. Something in him couldn't look at this childlike sleeping Malfoy, with tear stains on his cheeks, and not want to reach out to him.

What the hell was wrong with him these days? He'd been on unsure ground ever since coming back to school. Unlike the usual feelings Hogwarts provoked, returning to a school run by Lucius Malfoy felt a lot like still being in Privet Drive and he felt himself reverting to the person he was there. Quieter and more withdrawn. Lonely. He missed Hermione and he found it hard to socialise with Ron and the others. If anything he seemed to get on better with Neville these days. Ron, Seamus and Dean threw themselves boisterously and angrily at the new school administration. They had no experience of really being mistreated and it seemed to make them more self righteous. Every beating made them complain louder and more stridently. They refused to stay under the radar whereas Harry couldn't seem to react any other way. Too used to hiding from Dudley and not talking back to Uncle Vernon, his natural reaction was to be quiet and take what he was given. Speaking out had only ever made things worse at Privet Drive.

He didn't think Neville would be at school much longer, his grandmother had agreed to let him give it a try until Christmas and if she wasn't happy with how things were going he wouldn't be back. Harry doubted Neville's grandmother was at all happy with how things were going. Neville was a mess, his clumsiness in Snape's class had spread to just about every class he was in and his grades were dropping like a stone. Much like Harry's, but he didn't have a family around to complain about that or tell him to come home.

Harry frowned as his thoughts turned towards self pity. He would not feel sorry for himself. He had made a decision about that, a new years resolution if you would except it hadn't been New Year. He had himself and his magic and more money than anyone his age had a right to. He would get by. He was alive which was more than he could say for a lot of people, alive when he probably should have died several times over. He wouldn't waste that life with self pity.

He focused back on the sleeping boy in front of him. He didn't seem very much like the big bad Draco Malfoy of old any more. Instead he reminded Harry of a younger version of himself, hiding alone in the dark of his cupboard, crying over his latest punishment from Uncle Vernon. Harry felt a strong instinct to comfort him despite the fact he almost certainly wouldn't welcome any comfort. He touched the skin of Malfoy's back again, stroking down his spine and pushing the blanket down almost to his waist. He had to admit that the instinct to comfort wasn't the only thing he was feeling at this point.

Harry had known he was attracted to boys as well as girls for a couple of years now. It didn't really bother him, though he had never seriously considered acting on it. Not that he'd really seriously considered acting on any of his attractions to girls either. Asking Cho to the ball last year had been about as far as he had got and now they hardly saw the girls. Besides, girls made him nervous. He didn't understand them at all. They were so temperamental and pretty in a strange untouchable way that made his throat close up when he tried to talk to them. He was afraid he might smudge them with his grubby fingers. Boys, he figured, couldn't be all that different from him. Even boys who were Malfoy.

He probably shouldn't be sitting here running his hand up Malfoy's spine. It was, all things considered, really inappropriate. Malfoy was asleep and as such unable to tell him to get lost and he shouldn't even be in here. Malfoy's skin was really soft. He had never thought that a boy’s skin would be so soft especially given the beatings Malfoy's skin had seen.

There was something particularly exciting about the fact that he was touching Malfoy without his permission, about sneaking into the Slytherin dormitory and into someone's bed. Something about it definitely turned him on more than a little. He got a mental image of a little angel and a little devil either side of his head. The angel Harry was saying, 'Stop that right now and get back to your dormitory.' It was definitely the devil Harry that prompted him to lean down and kiss Malfoy's shoulder. Then he had to taste him again.

As he ran his mouth up Malfoy's spine he felt the other boy start to wake and drew back again, pressing his lips together as if to seal in the flavour.

Malfoy's eyes flickered open and he rolled back as he registered something in the bed with him.

"It's just me," Harry whispered unhelpfully.

Draco stared and Harry realised that only his head was visible as he was still wearing the invisibility cloak. He pulled it off completely.

"Potter?" Malfoy said in sleepy confusion.

"Yeah."

"Were you..." Malfoy trailed off, his eyes narrowing. "What are you doing here?"

"You weren't at dinner," said Harry, thinking that it wasn't such a great reason when you said it out loud. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"You broke into my dormitory because I wasn't at dinner? Are you insane?" The more he woke up the more annoyed he seemed to become. "What the fuck does it matter to you whether I go to dinner or not, it's none of your business."

"I was..."

"Worried? Don't be. I can take care of myself, Potter, and if I ever did want help it wouldn't be from you."

Harry was having difficulty focusing on Malfoy's face or words, his eyes kept slipping away down his neck to his chest and lower to where the blanket hung provocatively low over his hips. Malfoy had really nice hips.

"Are you even listening to me?" Malfoy complained as he realised where Harry was looking. "What is up with you? Did you really come here to check up on me or just to check me out?"

Harry blushed a bit and pulled his eyes back up. "Both, I think," he answered frankly.

Malfoy looked a little taken aback by his answer, as if his comment had not been intended seriously.

"Is that a problem?" Harry asked, his nerves seemed to have disappeared now that he was actually in Malfoy's presence.

"Checking up on me, I should think so," answered Malfoy thoughtfully. "Checking me out..."

Draco had known he was gay since he was about 12 or 13, he felt it was important to know yourself. At first he had thought maybe he could change it, then when he had realised he couldn't he had ignored it, but that hadn't worked either, so he had settled for hiding it from everyone but the boys he fucked. Why ignore your sexuality when it was so much more fun to indulge it? His father despised it of course, it was one of the reasons he was so intent on beating Draco into being the son he wanted. Draco had given up trying on that front, no matter what he did his father was never happy. He worked to avoid the worst of the beatings, but the rest was simply inevitable in a perfectionist like his father. He wanted Draco to be straight, Draco knew he couldn't be. He wanted Draco to be polite to Harry Potter, Draco's blood boiled whenever he saw the git.

On the other hand the git was growing up into a rather attractive young man and Draco could really do with something to distract them both from what had happened this morning. He rather liked the idea of fucking The Boy Who Lived, it would be quite a notch in his bedpost and make fighting with him so much more interesting. Just the thought of being able to make him blush whenever he wanted to...

"...that I think we can work with." He gave Potter his best seductive smoulder complete with sexy smirk (which he'd worked on in the mirror all summer). It worked rather better than expected.

No-one had ever looked at Harry like that before, let alone Malfoy, and it ran through him like pure adrenaline. He wanted in a way he had never wanted before, a way that seemed to come straight from his groin and pulled him forward. He pushed Malfoy back onto the bed and pressed him down into it. He saw a flicker of surprise in Malfoy's eyes before he covered his mouth with his own.

The angel rolled its eyes in a way that reminded Harry a lot of Hermione and folded it's arms disapprovingly. Harry stuck his tongue in Malfoy's mouth.

A little taken aback, Malfoy pushed Harry away. "Bloody hell, Potter," he spluttered. "Where did you learn how to do that?"

"Nowhere," said Harry uncertainly. "Did I do it wrong?"

"No," said Malfoy. "I just never thought you'd..."

"What?"

"Oh, nothing," Malfoy shrugged. "You just took me by surprise. Bloody Gryffindors I suppose, rushing in where angels fear to tread."

Harry grinned at that. "It's okay then?" he asked.

"Well, yeah."

"Should we worry about anyone..." Harry gestured to the curtains.

"They're all scared of me," said Malfoy dismissively. "They won't disturb us and the curtains are charmed to silence any noise..." he didn't get any further as he was once more pinned to the bed by Harry.

"Mphh," he protested unconvincingly.

Harry explored Malfoy's mouth thoroughly, holding his head still in both hands.

Malfoy's hands clutched at the front of his robes torn between pulling him closer and pushing him away. After a moment Malfoy pushed hard and tried to roll him over but Harry put his full weight into stopping him, he wanted to be on top. He let go of Malfoy's head and took hold of his wrists instead, pulling them away from his robes and pinning them beside his head.

"Stay put," he whispered, straddling Malfoy's legs.

"Make me," Malfoy challenged.

The grin that spread across Harry's face in response made him falter a little. "I thought I just did. I'm stronger than you," Harry pointed out.

"Heavier than me anyway," Malfoy responded. "Do the Gryffindor’s get extra pudding or something?" Harry had put on weight over summer, and not in a bad way. He'd been too skinny before, often when he came back after summer he looked like he hadn't eaten for the whole three months, and it hadn't suited his build which was short but stocky.

"You're probably too worried about the size of your scrawny arse to eat pudding."

"My arse is not scrawny!"

Harry transferred Malfoy's wrists to one hand and plunged the other one under the blanket still lying over Malfoy's hips. He grabbed hold of Malfoy's arse.

Malfoy went rather pale and uttered a cry of pain.

"Shit!" swore Harry, letting go completely and sitting up. "I'm sorry, I completely forgot."

"Well I'm not about to forget, am I?" Malfoy snarled. He pulled away and gathered the blanket around himself. "This was a stupid idea. Why don't you fuck off, Potter."

"Don't be like that," Harry protested. He didn't want to leave now, not when things had just been getting so interesting. "I'll be more careful."

"You don't have to be fucking careful, I won't break! I'm fine!"

"Well, good then," said Harry and promptly leaned in to kiss him again. This kissing thing was pretty good, he really should have tried it sooner. Malfoy's lips were softer than he would have thought, the way the other boy always seemed to hold them in such tight smirks and scowls. He licked up the arch of his top lip making Malfoy gasp in a rather enjoyable way then slipped his tongue back between the parted lips to find Malfoy's tongue and curl his own against it.

When he drew away he found he had managed to pull Malfoy so close the other boy was straddling his lap. He ran his hands down Malfoy's sides and over the top of his thighs as he kissed down his neck, wondering how best to get around Malfoy's injuries. He had a lot of things he wanted to try tonight and he didn't want to accidentally hurt the other boy.

He laid Malfoy back down on the bed. "Lie on your stomach," he instructed.

"Why?" asked Malfoy suspiciously.

"Just do it," said Harry, forcefully pushing him over onto his stomach and pressing his shoulders down into the bed. He ran his hands up Malfoy's pale forearms, stretching his arms above his head, and then down over his back to finally get rid of the blanket and leave him fully exposed.

"What are you doing?"

"Something I read in a Quidditch book over summer," Harry answered as he passed his hands lightly over the bruises on Malfoy's lower body. "I have plans for you and they need you to be a little less damaged than this." Despite the unpleasant memories the bruises roused in him his plans roused other, far more pleasant, feelings. He hadn't wasted that month Dudley had been at fat camp, the internet was a very wonderful thing full of stories and pictures and chat rooms where people were more than happy to describe in great detail just what they might like to do to wizardboy15.

"What kind of Quidditch book?"

"Shut up and let me concentrate." Harry pulled out his wand and tried one of the spells from the chapter on Quick Fixes for Quidditch Injuries in his birthday present from Hermione, Practical Quidditch Tips. She might always get him books but at least they were useful books.

Malfoy sighed in pleasure. "What is that?"

"Temporary numbing spell and a bruise reduction charm." Harry leant down and planted a wet kiss on Malfoy's left buttock. "Better?"

"Yeah."

Harry continued to nuzzle Malfoy's backside, running a hand up the inside of his thigh.

Malfoy suddenly realised what else Harry had said. "What plans?" he asked, trying to roll over again.

Harry promptly put his full weight on Malfoy's back. "Stay put."

"What are you planning? Have you done this before?" he sounded a little panicked.

"Done what before?"

"This. You know, anything like this."

"No," Harry answered. "But I fully intend to make up for lost time tonight." He kissed the base of Malfoy's spine. "You're right you know," he said as he kissed lower. "Your arse isn't scrawny. It's rather nice."

\--------------

Draco lay still, flat on his stomach, feeling the damp patch underneath him. Harry's weight pressed him down into the bed, his breath tickling Draco's neck. Well, Draco thought lazily. I think I can safely say this got a little out of my control. He sighed into the pillow. He felt pretty good despite the fact this was definitely not where he had intended to be at this point. If he wanted to regain any vague aspect of dignity now would be the perfect time to tell Potter to get the hell out of his bed, but it just didn't have the same ring as it did after you'd done the fucking and his limbs felt like jelly and Potter's weight was comforting in a way he never would have imagined.

Just as he was thinking that Potter started to move, Draco actually found himself grumbling a complaint as the warm, damp skin pulled away from him.

"Come here," Potter muttered, pulling him round and into a tangled hug.

Draco let himself be pulled into Potter's embrace out of lazy curiosity, too sated to really argue. He had never cuddled after sex, in fact he was usually well gone by now and if wasn't for the fact that this was his bed he would be. Really. He wriggled slightly in Potter's arms, finding the most comfortable place for his limbs.

"I never really meant us to... when I came up here I mean," Harry said quietly. "I've never..."

"You said before," Draco muttered, things were enough of a mess without Potter trying to have a conversation with him.

"But there you were and you looked so... and I just wanted to so much."

"Potter, shut up," Draco fidgeted in his arms.

Potter wrapped one leg over his thighs to hold him in place and he stilled, his head tucked under Potter's chin. It felt strange to be held like this and not just because it was after sex. He didn't think he'd ever been hugged like this, not that he could remember anyway. He felt something suspiciously like tears pricking in his eyes and turned his head more into the pillow as he tried to reign them back. He was not going to cry, bad enough to give into it when alone but with Potter here it was absolutely out of the question. Still a few rogue tears ran down to wet his pillow and he tightened his arms around Potter hoping vaguely he might squeeze hard enough to hurt him. It had to be Potter didn't it, who else would he end up here in the dark with? Who else's arms could hold him this close? Not his parents, not any of his friends.

Just as he was regaining his composure Potter took hold of the hair on the back of his head and pulled him up to face him. The darkness was absolute but Potter pressed their foreheads together and Draco could feel their eyes meeting.

"This is not just for tonight, Malfoy," he said seriously. "This might not have been planned but I don't take something like this lightly. I'm not nearly finished with you." He kissed him roughly. "But you have to know that this doesn't change anything. Not yet anyway. I'm not in love with you and I'm probably never going to be in love with you, I don't even like you very much."

"Could have fooled me," Draco sniped.

Harry tugged his hair painfully. "We won't be fighting in public anymore so I recommend you keep your usual opinions to yourself out there. We've all heard it before anyway and I don't want you back in your father's office."

"Why do you care, you don't even like me remember?"

"I'm not saying you haven't deserved a good slap around the face from time to time, maybe even more, but you don't deserve that and I don't want it happening again. Your arse belongs to me now," Potter ran a hand down to take hold of the property in question.

"Possessive aren't you?" Draco joked around the lump in his throat. "What if I don't want to be your little sex toy?"

"I don't remember asking what you wanted. Besides, I know better than to listen to what comes out of your mouth. I've learned that much in the time I've known you."

"I don't hate you, you know," Draco said suddenly.

"What?"

"I don't, I never did," he repeated. "I wanted us to be friends once if you remember."

"I remember. We could never have been friends."

"I don't see why not, just because Weasley got his greedy little talons into you first..."

"That's why not. Ron is a good person, all my friends are good people. You... you're a close-minded, prejudiced little coward and a bully. I could never be friends with someone who gets off on tormenting other people just because they don't fit into his preconceptions of how you're supposed to live."

"Ooh, big words from the boy in the glass house. What does it say about your morals that you're here with your hands all over my evil little body? As to Weasley being a good person, that's rich. You think he'd be friends with you if you were a Slytherin or if your last name was Malfoy? He's thick as two planks and he resents you for the attention you get, can't you see that? He doesn't want to be your friend, he wants to be you!"

Potter sighed. "You never change, do you," he said almost to himself. "I'm not saying Ron is perfect but you're wrong about him. He is a good person."

"He's a git," Draco said firmly. "And you... you are one of the most annoying people I ever met. You always have to be right about everything, you always have to win. Look at yourself, even in bed you have to be on top!"

"I don't always have to be right."

"And you always disagree with everything I say."

"I do n... this is ridiculous. All I wanted to say was that we are going to do this again and I still don't like you. Got it?"

"Got it."

"And for what it's worth I never hated you really either, maybe brief flashes of loathing and detestation, but mostly just extreme irritation."

"I'm deeply moved. So what the fuck are you doing this for then? Can you answer me that?"

Potter rolled onto his back, pulling Draco with him. They were still tightly wrapped around one another despite their current argument and Draco settled himself on Harry's shoulder. "I don't know. Why not? I wanted to, you wanted to... I don't know. Who else would I do this with?"

"I don't know, one of your Gryffindor cronies I suppose."

"I just... there's no-one else I could have... I wanted you. Everything's so different this year but you're you... it wouldn't be Hogwarts without you here. You know?"

"Maybe." And he thought maybe he did understand. Just as he couldn't have let anyone else take what Potter had just taken, not willingly anyway. Not that he had been entirely willing but he hadn't exactly fought Potter off either. To be jealous and resentful of someone they need to have something you admire, Potter had his faults. Great big faults... but he was still Harry Potter. Strong, talented, popular, a born leader... He ran a hand over Potter's chest and then leaned over to lick one dark nipple. Potter tangled one hand in his hair but didn't pull him away. Draco tasted and teased Potter's chest, feeling himself grow hard again as he did so.

"Have you done this before?" Potter asked suddenly.

Draco paused. He'd never done anything like what they'd just done, not really, but strictly speaking the answer to Potter's question was, "Yes. Sort of, anyway."

"What do you mean sort of?"

"I mean I've had sex before, fucked before but I've never...."

"What?"

"Never been on the receiving end, all right!"

Potter chuckled and ruffled his hair. "Don't like to play the bottom, huh?"

"Fuck off," he said, blushing.

"Suck my dick," replied Potter, and it didn't sound like just an insult. A theory born out by Potter's hand which was now pushing Draco's head firmly in the direction of his groin.

"Hey," Draco protested even as he moved to obey. He really had to stop letting Potter push him around like this. If only it didn't feel so good to let him. To be the first person Potter touched like this, the one Potter wanted to suck his dick. The one who cared whether Draco was in pain or not.

\--------------------

Harry lay awake long after Malfoy had fallen asleep against him. Although his body was more than sated and he could feel it pulling at him to sleep, his mind was whirring.

He had just lost his virginity, something he hadn't expected to do for years still. More than that he had lost it with a boy and with Draco Malfoy of all boys. When he had first touched Malfoy last night he hadn't been thinking at all. When he had touched Malfoy tonight he hadn't thought it would really go any further. When Malfoy had actually shown interest... he wasn't sure when he had actually decided he was going to go all the way. He thought it was probably sometime between healing Malfoy and sticking his tongue... wow, had he really done that? Harry thought he might be in shock. It was one thing to pretend you were doing it on IRC (internet relay chat, this is 1995 after all) and another altogether to actually do it.

But really, the strangest thing of all was lying here in the dark, not alone. Warm, smooth body curled around his own. Heartbeat against his arm, rise and fall of breathing against his side, exhale of breath tickling his chest. Very weird, comforting and unsettling at the same time. He was worried that if he fidgeted he would wake Malfoy up and God knows he vastly preferred him silent, when he opened his mouth he tended to remind Harry why he shouldn't be here with him.

Harry sighed. The many, many reasons why he should not have just slept with Draco Malfoy. He's a git, that was definitely number one. His father's a Death Eater. He wants to be a Death Eater, rising up the charts at number three. He's a git (the remix) holding at number four. He hates all your friends and they hate him.

He sighed again and looked down at Malfoy. He's really very pretty when he's sleeping, he thought absently. Then with horror, please tell me I have a better reason for this than that. I can just see it now, sorry for betraying everything Gryffindor stands for, Ron, but you see he was just so pretty I couldn't help myself. That would go down really well, good thing he had no intention of Ron ever finding out about this, or anyone else for that matter.

It wasn't that he was embarrassed about his sexuality, in fact Ron and Hermione already knew pretty much. Not that they spent hours talking it over but it had come up and it felt right that his best friends should know. But the reasons for not letting anyone find out about this were almost as numerous as the reasons he shouldn't be doing it in the first place. They wouldn't understand was definitely number one, he didn't really understand so how the hell was anyone else supposed to? He also had the feeling that if Malfoy's father caught the slightest wind of this then what he'd seen this morning would be a walk in the park compared to what he might do to both of them.

That made him shiver and despite the feeling that he ought to be heading back to his dormitory he snuggled lower down and turned into Malfoy, pulling the bedclothes tight around them both. Shortly after that he fell asleep.

\---------------

Draco was woken up by a voice speaking loudly but nervously through his curtains.

"Malfoy! Um... it's time to get up and... uh...."

It was Crabbe. On the one hand he had been ordered to never disturb him and on the other he knew it was possible he would also be in trouble if he let him sleep in. Draco liked to keep people on their toes, never sure what might rouse his anger. He was about to indulge in some good natured tormenting of his dull-witted friend when he realised he wasn't alone. Memory came flooding back. "Shit!"

He grabbed his wand, suspended the silencing charms long enough to shout, "Fuck off, I'm awake!" and then re-established it to snarl, "Potter, you moron! What the hell are you still doing here?"

Lying next to him, Potter stirred and started to wake up.

"Wake up! You really haven't done this before have you? Don't you know it's very bad form to still be here in the morning you big Gryffindor twit. If someone sees you..."

"I'm awake," Potter muttered grumpily, fumbling around the bed for his glasses. "Stop yelling."

"I'll stop yelling when you get out of my bed and invisible yourself back to your own dorm. Get lost, Potter!"

Never a big morning person, Harry grabbed Malfoy by the scruff of the neck and pulled him down. "That's enough," he said angrily. "I'll go when I'm good and ready."

"Get off me," Malfoy protested rather weakly.

"As soon as you apologise for being an ass," Harry demanded.

"I will not! This is my bed, I'll say what I want in it."

"Tell me you're sorry."

"Or what? Going to beat me up?"

That gave Harry pause. "Damn it," he muttered. He ground his hips down against the boy under him, "You are so annoying."

Malfoy gasped under him, clutching his forearms hard. "Stop that, we're going to be late for morning exercise."

Harry let him go and reached for his invisibility cloak, which was lying at the bottom of the bed where he'd left it. Before he pulled it over his head he reached out and grabbed Malfoy by the hair again, pulling him into a kiss. "Don't forget what I said last night, this isn't over."

Then he slipped carefully out of the far side of Malfoy's bed and left.

\------------------

Luckily for Harry his room-mates were so bleary eyed in the morning they hardly noticed he hadn't been in his bed and accepted easily his statement that he'd got up early to have a shower despite the fact that having a shower before running didn't make a whole lot of sense.

He arrived outside only a couple of minutes late with wet hair dripping down his neck and making the morning feel even colder than it was.

Malfoy was already there and Harry couldn't tell whether he'd taken time for a shower or not. His hair was dry. The thought that he hadn't sent a curl of desire through Harry, that Malfoy might still be wearing Harry's scent, marked by Harry's sweat...

Harry shook himself, momentarily thankful for the bitingly cold air.

His view of Malfoy was altered so much he could scarcely look at him as the same person, the feelings he felt were so different. Sympathy instead of loathing, desire instead of annoyance.


	2. Potions Class

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little extra I added on to this story.

For all that Harry had been concerned for Malfoy’s well being, it turned out to be his own arse on the line next. He simply couldn’t concentrate in any of the classes that Malfoy was in with him. 

For his part Malfoy was being remarkably well behaved, although how much of that was due to his demand that Malfoy make sure he didn’t get in any more trouble and how much was due to the pain he was still in from his last caning Harry didn’t know. Malfoy still winced every time he sat down on the hard wooden benches and chairs they used for class and meals, although it was small enough that you might miss it if you weren’t looking for it. And that was the problem. Harry was looking for it. Harry was unable to stop looking.

And thinking about it. Not about the caning, but about what had happened that night. The feel of Malfoy’s skin, the taste of him, holding him down underneath him.

They hadn’t spoken about it, they didn’t even exchange glances as Harry looked away any time Malfoy looked in his direction. Which wasn’t often as the other boy seemed to be keeping his head down.

And in three days Harry hadn’t yet tried going back to Malfoy’s dormitory. Although every night he’d thought about going.

And he was thinking about it again as he absently stirred his cauldron, watching the back of Malfoy’s blonde head, remembering how his shoulders looked pressed into the sheets. He picked up his wand and rubbed his fingers along the shaft carelessly. He vaguely heard someone come into the classroom behind him, hazily noted Snape walking towards whoever it was. He thought about sinking slowly into Malfoy and squeezed his wand tightly, barely stirring at all now.

And it was at that moment, just as Snape was about to pass his desk to speak to whomever was at the door, that his cauldron over boiled violently, causing him to leap up as the desk began to melt and burn at the same time.

He cast an unthoughtout Aguamenti just as his brain caught up and reminded him that water wasn’t always a good idea in potions accidents. A cloud of steam exploded outwards as he fell backwards over his bench to escape it.

There were several moments of chaos before Snape got the situation under control and Harry scrambled back up to his feet to face a furious Snape and an amused voice from behind him.

“Mr. Potter,” said Lucius Malfoy. “How very careless.”

Harry half turned to see the Headmaster standing behind him, but without fully turning his back on Professor Snape.

“Potter,” Snape barked. “Into my office, I will deal with you in a minute.”

Harry spun back around and started to obey, but was stopped again by Lucius Malfoy. 

“No, I don’t think so,” said the Headmaster silkily. He still sounded amused. Harry had noticed that while he sounded chillingly furious when punishing his son he always sounded mildly entertained when punishing Harry. As if it were an unexpected treat. “I think we can deal with this now. Punishment should be immediate, the lesson takes better that way.”

Snape inclined his head in  acquiescence. “To the front then, Potter. Hands on my desk.”

Harry walked to the front of the class, past Ron’s whispered “Hard luck, mate.” and Seamus’ surreptitious thumbs up sign. It wasn’t unusual for him to end up feeling the cane in Snape’s class, but oddly enough he’d come to dislike the potions master far less than some of his other teachers this year. Snape had always seemed to single him out unfairly before, but something had shifted and he had the strangest feeling sometimes that Snape was keeping an eye on him even as he appeared to be doing otherwise.

But he had a bad feeling about this. Actually blowing up your cauldron was deeply frowned on for students his age, and Snape must have noticed he’d done it out of his own carelessness. Snape missed very little in his classroom. And then there was Lucius Malfoy, who did not approve of light punishment for stupidity.

And sure enough he felt his robes flipped up over his back, heavier than the short gym robes he had worn in the Headmaster’s office. Most times in class the cane was administered to the hand or over your robe. Harry found himself blushing, even though it was nothing the other boys hadn’t seen before. And yet his mind strayed back to Malfoy bent over his father’s desk, his smooth white buttocks framed by his dark robes. And that shouldn’t be arousing, what had happened that morning had been terrible. But it was, and he felt his cock twitch against his underpants. Which made him blush even harder.

He glanced to the side and saw the class watching him, but his eyes looked for Malfoy’s and he was finally looking back at Harry. He was very still and white.

Then Harry realised he could still see Snape hovering. Then it wasn’t…

The first strike across his bare thighs shot through him like a canon blast. He yelped in shock, gripping the desk hard.

If he had been looking he would have seen Draco jerk with the blow himself, but his eyes were squeezed shut and his vision was white behind his eyelids.

Apparently Lucius Malfoy felt, now that Harry had seen just how well his own son could take his punishment, he would up the ante on Harry as well. 

The next stroke was like fire across the crease between his thighs and his arse, he twisted like a fish, unable to not move. How did Malfoy stay still for this? How did he stay so quiet?

“Really, Potter. Every time you move without permission I will only repeat that stroke.”

Harry’s mouth gaped as he drew in panting breaths trying to master his body. He tried to steady his breathing, to breathe out in a whoosh as the next stroke came.

But his breathe jerked back into him as soon as it hit. He made wordless noises trying not to swear, but he managed to hold still this time by the skin of his teeth.

Then again, with little time to prepare. And he bit his own tongue and dug his nails into his hands to make more pain to distract from the other pain and that somehow helped. 

There were only two more strokes after that, and he held onto the desk for grim death through both of them, fighting to control his breathing and repeating over and over in his head,  _ ‘Crucio is worse, crucio is worse, it could be worse...’  _ Until he felt his robes flicked back down over his stinging skin and even that hurt more than he had known it could. The harsh wool against the livid marks that must have been left there. He stood up shakily and all he could think was,  _ ‘Forty. Malfoy took forty of those.’ _

He hobbled back to his desk past the white faces of his classmates and nearly cried out when he sat back down. He just sat there, stiff and shocky, as Snape and the Headmaster discussed whatever he had come to discuss and then Lucius Malfoy left again and the class eventually wound down. 

As people began to pack up Snape raised his voice, “Potter, please stay behind. I would like to discuss the correct response to an over-boiling cauldron with you.” 

Harry gave a stiff nod and remained in his seat as the others packed away and filed out. 

Ron whispered as he passed, “Bloody hell, Harry. You’d think he’d let you off after that.”

Harry smiled robotic al ly in response and waited as the last people left.

Malfoy was the last person out and he hesitated as he stood up. Looking at Snape and then flicking a glance back to Harry. But he walked past and out of the room silently.

“In my office, Potter,” Snape told him and Harry stood with a wince and walked stiffly after him into his office. “Close the door.”

Harry was confused, but did as he was told. 

Snape went to his shelves and searched out a jar of something. “It is not permitted to see Madame Pomfrey for injuries received as part of discipline,” he said quietly. “And I cannot allow you to take this away with you, but it will help.” He came over to Harry. “If you will allow me?”

Harry just stared for a moment, then asked, “Why?” 

Snape looked at him narrowly. “Sometimes it is better not to ask questions,” he replied brusquely.

“Um, okay?” Harry responded, no less confused.

Snape gestured and Harry realised he was going to have to expose himself again. Trying to control his embarrassment he lifted his own robes and bent slightly over Snape’s desk, wishing strangely that the elastic on his underwear wasn’t quite so frayed. As if Snape gave a damn what his underwear looked like.

He jumped slightly as cold, slick fingers touched the back of his thighs. Partly the cold and partly the painful, swollen skin that was being touched. But as those fingers massaged whatever it was Snape had in the jar into the welts the pain did ease. He worked from the lower most mark upwards until he had to push the legs of Harry’s pants aside to properly access the stripe across the crease of his legs. 

Harry’s embarrassment suddenly sky rocketed as he realised he was growing aroused again. The hands were entirely professional, but he was alone with his arse in view and as the pain faded he became too aware that those fingers were only centimetres from being entirely too intimate and he was remembering soothing Malfoy’s injuries and what had followed from that.

He bit his lip and tried to think of revolting things, but all he could think was surely the idea of Professor Snape touching him ought to be revolting enough. But apparently it was not.

Snape’s fingers stilled as Harry  inadvertently arched back into them. Stilled but did not retreat.

Then those fingers stroked once more over the exposed skin. Touching, not caressing, but no longer entirely clinical.

Harry let out an unsteady breath, and confusing even himself he bent lower over the desk, tilting his hips.

Snape’s fingers pushed slowly under the elastic of his underwear. He heard the jar being put down on the desk next to him and then both hands were on his backside. Kneading. Thumbs running deliciously close to the crease of his arse, pulling him open as they dug into the muscle of his backside. Still hidden under the cheap cotton of his underwear.

This was insane, but as long as Snape didn’t say anything, as long as he didn’t have to say anything… just like this. He wanted to know… and it wasn’t like he would ever let Malfoy touch him like this.

Snape slid one hand lower and cautiously cupped his balls, lightly moving them, and then, when Harry didn’t stop him, playing with them more firmly, exploring them. The thumb of his other hand slid closer and ran over Harry’s arsehole.

Harry let out a soft moan, opening his legs wider, arching his arse into Snape, doing everything he could with his posture to encourage the man to keep going.

And then Snape did speak, and to Harry’s surprise it didn’t ruin anything. “I have known men who found being beaten arousing,” his voice was soft velvet and almost as good as his fingers. He had never noticed how sensual Snape’s voice was before. “I do not think you are one of them. But even so the physical reaction to extreme pain can heighten any pleasure that follows. The shock can allow for a greater breadth of emotional response. An openness.” As he spoke that final word his thumb pressed against Harry’s opening, almost but not quite breaching it. “Even a vulnerability.” He squeezed Harry’s balls then reached further to run fingers over the base of Harry’s very erect cock. 

Harry pressed his face into the desk.

Snape removed that hand and reached around Harry, lifting the waistband of his underwear up and over his cock, exposing it to the air. He let a finger run over the head and Harry shivered and moaned again.

As the waistband was pulled down over his arse Harry moved his legs in to let the item fall to the floor and with only a modicum of shame running through him he stepped out of it and spread his legs even wider than before, exposing himself to his teacher in a manner that made it clear he wanted more.

“I did not call you into my office for this, Harry,” Snape said in a surprisingly gentle tone.

Harry flushed red again in  embarrassment but didn’t reply, just maintained his position.

Snape’s hand rested back on his right buttock, thumb smoothing over the skin.

Harry knew he wanted to. Had known from the moment he had reacted to Harry’s first push back by continuing to touch. Even if Snape refused now Harry would not be ashamed at offering something that was clearly wanted.

But Snape was obviously having an internal argument with himself, even as his thumb continued to trace circles on Harry’s skin.

Suddenly his hand was gone.

“Get out of here Potter, you’ll be late for dinner.” The tone was dismissive but not harsh. 

He heard Snape step well away and knew that the moment had gone. He raised himself quickly, letting his robes cover him, picked up his underwear and stuffed it into his pocket and left with his head up and his stride neither slow nor hurried, but without making eye contact.

And he didn’t rush until the potions classroom door was shut behind him, at which point he speed walked himself to the nearest bathroom and locked himself in a cubicle to take hold of his aching prick and bring himself speedily to an achingly good orgasm.

Panting against the cubicle wall, he let himself recover enough to not be red faced before replacing his underwear, washing his hands, and heading up to the Great Hall for dinner.

No need to think about what had just happened. What was it Snape had said… Sometimes it was best not to ask questions.


	3. The Quidditch Showers

But apparently questions were going to be asked, just not by him.

Ron and the others had been deeply sympathetic over dinner, and Harry had pretended to still be in quite a lot of pain, so as not to  give Snape’s actions away to anyone .

Still feeling distracted, and not as hungry as normal, he left the hall before the rest of the Gryffindor boys, claiming he needed to lie down.

But as he  was about to climb the stairs , Draco Malfoy darted out of the shadows and tugged him into a nearby corridor.

“ Are you all right… did Snape...” he trailed off.

“Did Snape what?” asked Harry, suddenly wondering if he was not the only one to have taken advantage of Draco Malfoy’s unfortunate circumstances. “Has he… I mean… with you?” He felt a strange mix of possessiveness and jealousy at the thought, also a slight disappointment that Snape might have taken  Malfoy up on what was offered, but had turned Harry away.

“He… helps me sometimes,” said  Malfoy nervously. “I thought maybe he might have helped you, when he had you stay behind.”

“Helps you like I helped you?” asked Harry, growing more put out.

“Like… what? I mean he helps me with the pain,”  Malfoy said, confused. “If that’s what you mean. I’m not supposed to tell anyone, but I thought…”

Harry looked around, then pushed  Malfoy further down the corridor and into a storage cupboard. “Does he help you like this?” and he cupped  Malfoy roughly through his robes, squeezing him.

Malfoy yelped. “What? No!”

Harry loosened his grip, but kept a hold, feeling for the shape of him, rubbing him through the cloth. “He doesn’t touch you here?”

“No! Merlin’s arse, Potter. Why would you think that?”

But despite his supposed horror at the suggestion, Malfoy was reacting to Harry’s touch, his hands clutching Harry’s robes as he swayed in towards him,  his eyelids fluttering closed .

Harry took out his wand and made sure the cupboard door was locked before he tugged Malfoy’s robes up to his waist so he could reach under them and take hold of his cock again. He pushed Malfoy’s legs apart with his feet and Malfoy let him, leaning back against the shelves and pushing his hips forward into Harry’s grip. Harry stroked him until he was hard and his under wear was damp with arousal, rubbing over the head of his cock with the soft cotton of his underpants. Harry pulled them down, much the same way as Snape had not so very long ago, and Draco let them drop, much as Harry had. Harry took hold of his balls and played with them, soft and hot in his hands, tugging at them to make Malfoy moan.

“ Did you really  pull me down a dark corridor to ask me about Snape?” Harry whispered in his ear. “Or was this what you were really looking for?”

But he kissed Malfoy before he had a chance to answer. Whatever the reason, Harry was glad the stand off had been broken. Somehow, no matter how much he wanted to, it had been slightly too terrifying to just turn up in Malfoy’s bedroom again. There had been guilt at the side of him that had come out in that darkened, green swathed space. But now, fresh from virtually throwing himself at Professor Snape of all people, he felt he better understood the appeal of letting someone take what they wanted. Even someone you might not like very much, or perhaps especially someone you didn’t like very much. The spice of feeling vulnerable, of allowing something entirely inappropriate from someone more powerful than you.

And suddenly he realised, Malfoy thought Harry was more powerful than him… perhaps he always had. It had never occurred to him that Malfoy might be pushing at him because he felt weak, because he thought Harry could hurt him more than he could hurt back. That Harry had actually always been in charge of this relationship and had simply never realised it until now, never known how to take advantage of it.

And even as he thought all of this he was pulling Malfoy flush against him and exploring his bare backside with his hands, deepening the kiss until they were as close as they could physically get to one another.

“I want to fuck you again,” Harry whispered in his ear. The tips of his forefingers pressing into the soft flesh of Malfoy’s arsehole as his hands spread his cheeks apart.

Malfoy panted against his neck and didn’t try and get away, which was all the answer Harry needed. He thrust twice more, pressing his own clothed erection into Malfoy’s groin, before pulling away and turning him to face the wall.

Malfoy braced himself and spread his legs further. Harry muttered a quick lubrication charm and brought his fingers back between Malfoy’s cheeks, pushing two in together. A storage closet was not the place to take your time. With the frustration of this afternoon’s unexpected revelation still nagging him he was quite desperate for something more satisfying than a quick wank in a bathroom. He worked his fingers inside Malfoy, twisting and thrusting and pulling them apart inside him. The resultant squelching noises, mixed with Malfoy’s ragged breathing and occasional moans, sordidly arousing.

“Can’t resist your arse, Malfoy,” he teased, pushing a third finger inside. “The way it grabs at my fingers. Like it can’t wait to have me inside it.” He took one of Malfoy’s hands and brought it down to his prick, his trousers now open. “Can you feel how hard I am for you.”

Malfoy’s slightly trembling fingers wrapped around his erection, stroking it awkwardly, the angle making it difficult. All the same Harry thrust into his warm, slightly sweaty palm, pushing the head of his cock against the firm heel of his hand. He twisted his three fingers and pushed them as deep as he could, making Malfoy groan and as he did he wondered what it would have felt like if Snape had sunk one of his long, pale fingers inside Harry. Would Harry have groaned like Malfoy and pushed back into his hand?

Harry’s cock twitched and smeared pre-come across Malfoy’s hand.

He withdrew his fingers, wishing he had light to see the way Malfoy’s arse would gape after them as it had that first night. But his wand was in his pocket and he was in a hurry. He smeared the remains of the lube down his shaft and pressed forward, sliding his cock across Malfoy’s arse until it slid into place and thrusting impatiently inside. Oh yes, that was it.

He threw his hips into a fast rhythm, moving deeper and deeper until he was all the way in with his fourth thrust. His hands tight on Malfoy’s hips and the other boy bending over and thrusting his hips up and back to meet him.

“Touch yourself,” Harry gasped. “Wank yourself off.”

He didn’t know if Malfoy obeyed or not, as he couldn’t see a damn thing. Next time they had a bed to themselves he was going to make Malfoy wank while he watched him. That would be a sight, he suspected. He wondered if Snape wanked, he supposed he did. Didn’t all men? What would Snape’s cock look like?

And what should have put him off entirely, tipped him over the edge and he spilled into Malfoy’s welcoming arse, holding himself hard against the other boy, making only tiny thrusts and then falling still, buried as deep as he could get, as he heard the other boy gasp and keen his own release onto the wall a few moments later, clenching almost painfully around Harry’s slightly softening prick.

Five minutes later they were out in the hall, looking only slightly flushed and walking away from each other as if neither had even noticed the other.

–

Harry found the next few weeks tortuous. He and Malfoy were now meeting up secretly to fuck every few days, but it wasn’t Malfoy that was driving him crazy. He couldn’t stop thinking about his almost encounter with Professor Snape. Every time he fucked Malfoy, he wondered how good it would feel to be fucked himself. And there was no way in hell he was letting Malfoy be the one to do that, and the other boy seemed happy with things the way they were. They mostly ignored each other in public, occasionally trading the odd insult, and in private Harry called all the shots and Malfoy let him.

Professor Snape was also treating Harry exactly the same way he always had, with a spiteful disdain. But every time he looked at Harry it felt different, even if he was the only one feeling it. Snape’s voice had taken on a new tenor of sexual promise in Harry’s mind and he spent most of Potions painfully erect and desperately hopeful that something, anything, would happen to give him another shot. He’d purposefully made mistakes in order to be given the cane just for some sort of contact, but as usual Snape’s punishments were short and now always only on the hand. He’d give almost anything at this stage just to be asked to bend over in the man’s presence. But he hadn’t yet gone so far as to incite another caning from the Headmaster. While it would probably be his best chance of getting Snape’s hand on his arse again he was not yet willing to go to such lengths.

In the end it was an entirely unexpected avenue that led to his next real encounter with Snape.

Dragging his heels in the Quidditch changing rooms, Harry was last out of the shower. Entirely on purpose as he’d been in the mood for a good wank with no interruptions.

He was well on his way, deep in a fantasy about again being bent over Professor Snape’s desk, when something made him look around. Standing a few feet away, watching him, with an obvious erection filling out his unnecessarily short shorts, was Professor Gonrunin.

Harry froze, his hand still on his cock, not sure what to do.

“Better not stop there, Potter,” Professor Gonrunin said in a unusually intense tone. “Give yourself blue balls.”

Harry let his hand drop away from his erection, feeling it start to flag.

To his horror Professor Gonrunin moved closer, moved right into the shower cubicle, and took his limp hand and pressed it back onto his prick.

“Didn’t you hear me,” he hissed in Harry’s ear. “I said don’t stop there.”

And he began to move Harry’s unresponsive hand up and down, pressing it firmly with his own fingers, his other hand taking hold of Harry’s hip and the older man’s erection rubbing against his bottom.

Harry felt weirdly dizzy as he stared dumbly down at the man’s hand forcing his fingers to pump up and down, up and down. His traitorous cock starting to fill back up from where it had descended.

“That’s it,” said his teacher hoarsely. “Don’t you have a lovely prick. Lovely arse too, Potter.” And the hand on his hip ran over the cheek of his arse and squeezed it.

Then he was being crowded forward against the wall as his teacher pushed against him, manoeuvring them until his wet, cloth covered erection was pressed right between the cheeks of Harry’s arse.

“Best make one thing clear right now, Potter,” Chad muttered in his ear. “The Headmaster doesn’t give a shit what I do with you, so don’t think you can go running to him with any stories.”

The other man was starting to pant. He could feel the head of his cock pressing in, thrusting against Harry’s arsehole, the cloth rough against the sensitive skin.

“So you just take it like the little poof you are, and you won’t find yourself in any trouble. Got it?”

Harry’s hand had fallen away to hang limply at his side and it was only Professor Gonrunin’s fingers on his cock now.

The man pulled away from Harry far enough to unbutton his shorts and Harry took the opportunity without even thinking. He spun and kicked the man as hard as he could in the crotch, then grabbed the nearest set of robes, threw them over his head, and ran for it in bare feet across the frozen grass outside.

He ran without thinking to the only adult who seemed willing to help, the only person he’d seen go against the new rule of the school, he ran to Professor Snape’s office.

“Come in,” said Professor Snape’s low, dry voice in response to his knock.

Harry pushed the door open and nearly fell inside, freezing from his panicked dash across the school grounds, still wet from the shower.

“Potter?” Snape rose from his desk, his face a mix of confusion, irritation and concern. “Where are your shoes?”

Harry panted and shivered, leaning against the closed door. “Left them in the locker room,” he finally managed to say.

Snape frowned at him. “Sit down,” he said finally.

Harry limped over to the chair in front of Snape’s desk and fell into it, pulling one foot up to rub it where he had trod on a sharp stone in his dash.

“What was so urgent that you forewent shoes in order to discuss it with me?”

Harry looked at his foot, feeling awkward. He felt like he had over-reacted a bit. Well not completely, but perhaps just saying no firmly might have been a better plan than kicking a teacher in the crotch and running away. But he’d been unable to think things through, he had just frozen and then acted on instinct.

“I… I kicked Professor Gonrunin in the, um… bits, sir,” he answered finally.

“You did what?” Snape sounded startled.

“I… he… I was in the showers after Quidditch practice… and he… “ This was ridiculous, why was he finding it so hard to say, when only a couple of weeks ago he had wriggled his bare arse in Snape’s face in the hopes of getting exactly what Gonrunin had been offering.

“I see,” said Snape unexpectedly. “There is no need to continue. You are a little old for Chad,” he said the name with a deep distaste. “But I suppose if the opportunity presented itself.”

Harry looked up at him, surprised, and then with dawning comprehension. “But surely the school...” he trailed off, he wasn’t entirely sure what the schools position on anything was anymore. “But Professor McGonagall...”

“Would gut him like a rabbit should she find out, and then she would lose her job and be replaced with someone more in line with the Headmasters - and therefore the Dark Lords – views. And likely be sent to Azkaban for her troubles.” Snape answered abruptly. “The Headmaster does not approve, but also does not especially care as long as he is not inconvenienced. Chad seriously overstepped his bounds when he laid hands on you, he really ought to have known better.”

“Do you think he’ll tell the Headmaster what I did to him?” Harry asked, feeling a bit calmer, and now more concerned about possible punishment for assaulting a teacher.

“Stay here, I presume you left more than your shoes in the changing rooms?”

Harry nodded. “I’m not even sure if this is my robe,” he admitted. “I can’t see a thing without my glasses.”

“I will be back shortly.”

The door closed and Harry was left alone in Snape’s office. After several long, cold minutes he got up and began to peer around, trying to keep warm by moving. There was no fireplace in here, but there was a door behind the desk which he presumed led to Snape’s private quarters. He purposefully didn’t try it, but ten minutes later he was cold enough to say fuck it and pushed the door cautiously. It creaked open revealing a similar sized room containing a sofa, and more importantly a lit fire.

With no wand to dry his hair, or even cast a basic warming charm, Harry decided that necessity trumped permission, especially as he had no idea how much longer Snape was likely to be. He knelt down carefully in front of the fire, as close as he could get without actually setting himself alight.

By the time Snape arrived back half an hour later, Harry was fast asleep on the sofa. He was roused by a sharp voice, “What do you think you are doing in here, Potter?”

He blinked his eyes in confusion and something was tossed at him. Grabbing for it he realised it was his glasses. He put them on his face and looked up at Snape, who looked a moderate level of furious, so not very different from usual then.

“Sorry, I was freezing, I mean really freezing. There’s no fire in your office and...”

“You didn’t have your wand, because you left it in the changing rooms. Of all people, Potter, I would think you would understand the importance of never leaving your wand behind no matter how dire the circumstances.”

Harry was relieved to see that Snape was drawing his wand out of a pocket even as he was telling him off. “I’ll try and remember that for next time,” he said only a little sarcastically.

“There will be no next time, I have made that quite clear to Professor Gonrunin. Neither will he be speaking to the Headmaster about any unfortunate consequences of his misplaced attentions.”

Harry stood up, “Thank you.”

Snape thrust his wand into his outstretched hand. “Now I suggest you take the rest of your possessions from the floor of my office and get back to your dormitory before it reaches curfew.”

Harry felt a deep sense of relief to feel the warm wood of his wand back in his hand. Just as when he was at Privet Drive and it was locked away, he was always deeply aware of its absence.

Part of him did want to get back to Gryffindor Tower and the safety of his bed, but another part didn’t want to leave with things so… formal. Oddly enough his encounter with Professor Gonrunin hadn’t changed his desires, only confirmed for him that this wasn’t some random interest in getting buggered by an authority figure. He was genuinely attracted to the idea of sex with Snape. For reasons that were as much a mystery to him as the next boy, but there they were. And while he didn’t especially want to do anything this evening, after everything that had happened, he also didn’t want to leave without some acknowledgement that there was more here than a Professor and a student. That there was the possibility of something more personal, more intimate.

He stepped a little closer to Snape, though not so close as to cause the other man to pull back. “I am sorry I invaded your private space without permission,” he said quietly. “I wouldn’t have if I could have thought of a better option.”

Snape studied him. “I should have seen to you more carefully before I left,” he admitted unexpectedly. “I am not used to...” he paused.

“To what?”

Snape shook his head. “If I had wanted to be the school nurse then I would not have applied to be a teacher,” he responded dryly.

“I guess we’re all finding ourselves in unexpected roles this year,” Harry replied with a half smile.

Snape looked at him oddly but did not reply.

Unable to think of anything he could do that would not seem oddly misplaced, Harry gave another half smile, said, “Thank you, again.” and left.

–

The next time Harry had Potions he waited until class was nearly over and then purposefully dropped and smashed a glass vial as he was passing Snape’s desk.

They exchanged looks, and with his back to the class Harry raised his eyebrows and did the best he could to indicate he wanted to talk to Snape.

Snape sighed and said, “Remain after class, Potter, you can clean that up by hand as we discuss your clumsiness.”

“Yes, sir,” said Harry, doing a little victory dance inside even as he turned to the rest of class with a mournful expression.

Hermione looked at him suspiciously, she knew he wasn’t particularly clumsy by nature.

“The rest of you may leave, I assume you will all be eager to get started on your essays.”

The rest of the class trooped out as Harry made a show of fetching a cloth from the sink.

As the door closed, Snape pointed his wand and the glass vial reassembled itself and disappeared into a cupboard. The spilt potion vanished. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t cane you for infringing on my personal time, Potter.”

“Um,” said Harry, un-needed cloth held limply in his hand. “I suppose I don’t really have one.” Taking his courage in both hands he turned slowly to the desk and bent well over it, arching his back to stick his bum well up. “Do you want me like this, sir?”

“Merlin’s Mother, Potter,” Snape sighed. “Have you finally lost what little sense you were given?”

Harry stood up. “Or perhaps you meant...” he said, starting to draw up his robes.

Snape put a hand over his, “Stop right there.”

They stood staring at each other for a moment, Snape’s hand cool and dry over his own somewhat warm and sweaty one.

Snape finally stepped away, flicked his eyes once at the classroom door, then calmly said. “Follow me, Potter.”


	4. Consummation

He strode towards his office and Harry followed him through the door, which Snape locked behind him. Snape sat down at his desk.

“What exactly has gotten into you, Potter. You cannot possibly want what you appear to want.”

“Can’t I?” said Harry.

“No,” said Snape coldly. “You cannot have half an idea of what it is you want, you idiot child.”

“I’m not a child!” said Harry.

“Exactly what children always say, when accused of being so.”

“I know what I want, and if you think I’ve never had sex before then you’re the one who’s mistaken, sir,” said Harry.

Snape eyed him. “And just who have you been having sex with, Potter.”

Harry paused. “That’s my business, all you need to know is that I’m far from inexperienced, and I know exactly what it is I’m asking for.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed. “Really.”

The way he said that one word had Harry practically salivating. “Really,” Harry replied firmly.

Snape stood up slowly. “Well then, perhaps you should lift your robe and place yourself over my desk, Potter.” His eyes were inscrutable.

Harry swallowed nervously, but did as he was told. Pulling his robes up past his waist and bending over the heavy wooden desk, legs slightly apart. He had worn his best pair of underpants, just in case. But he didn’t lower them, he just waited, cheek pressed to the desk.

“Hold onto the opposite side of the desk,” Snape commanded, and as Harry obeyed he felt the man place one hand on the top of Harry’s arse. “You know exactly what you’re asking for,” Snape repeated.

“Y...yes,” stuttered Harry, cursing his traitorous tongue for giving away his nerves.

Snape was stroking the cotton of his underpants, exploring the shape of his bottom thoroughly. Two fingers ran along the crack from top to bottom, curving under to find Harry’s balls and massaging them lightly through the fabric.

Then Snape hooked both hands into the waistband of Harry’s underpants and drew them slowly down over the globes of Harry’s arse, until they stretched between his thighs.

Harry felt like he had never been harder in his life, this was really going to happen. He tried to keep breathing steadily, but his heart was already racing and his mouth was dry.

Suddenly Snape grabbed him by the hips, stepped to the side and landed his palm hard and flat on the centre of Harry’s bottom with a loud slap.

Harry yelped in surprise.

Holding Harry firmly down onto the desk, Snape proceeded to give Harry the most vicious spanking he had ever felt. Harry was crying out in shock as much as pain at first, but shock gave way to embarrassment, and then just to pain. He hadn’t been spanked since he was nine years old, and never like this. Within minutes there were tears on Harry’s cheeks as the pain grew more and more intense and his shouts more and more shrill.

“Know what you’re asking, do you,” gasped Snape from above him. Landing his hard hand over and over on the delicate skin of the top of Harry’s thighs and the bottom curve of his buttocks. “Far from inexperienced, are we?”

Harry had nothing in him to reply with, all he could do was howl at the sheer, stinging, hot agony that kept building and building.

Suddenly Snape stopped, his hand flat on Harry’s bottom after one last hard swat.

In the silence Harry was further humiliated at the sounds of his own crying, but he couldn’t seem to stop just yet. Although the pain had overall been less than a caning on bare skin it had been more prolonged and wide ranging. Rather than a few raw stripes, his whole bottom burned and stung, and he could only imagine that it was bright red all over. And on top of that it was just more humiliating, you took a caning like a man, you got spanked like a naughty child. And a child was the last thing he had wanted to appear.

He could hear Snape panting with exertion.

But his hand was still on Harry’s bottom. Now starting to move again, the way it had before. Exploring, stroking, caressing.

Harry’s underwear had long since fallen to the floor, and Snape stroked up his spine, pushing his robe half way up his back, and then stroked back down to run his fingertips a hairs breadth past Harry’s arsehole and again down to brush lightly against his balls before they moved back up to cup the cheeks of his bottom one at a time.

Harry’s began to get his breath back. What was Snape doing?

His skin was hot and over-sensitive, every touch to the places he had been spanked lightly tortuous. Every touch elsewhere strangely compelling.

Snape moved to sit on the desk next to Harry, then unexpectedly slid his hand under Harry’s hips and lifted him over his lap. Harry’s legs dangled now, his rump raised even higher. An awkward and further humiliating position, and yet much more physically intimate than before.

“Like this, would have been better,” Snape said softly. “But then punishment was the purpose. How dare you come into my classroom, asking to be fucked, Potter? Only you could have such utter cheek.”

But his voice was not accusatory and he hadn’t stopped touching Harry, and from his new position Harry was suddenly aware that Snape was at least half way erect against his hip. Those fingers brushed closer to his arsehole.

“Who have you been letting in here, Potter?”

“N… no-one,” admitted Harry, his voice hoarse and shaky. “I… I always… um…”

“Do the fucking?” Snape finished for him. “Another student. Boy or girl?”

“Boy.”

“The same age as you?”

“Yes.”

“And how long has this been going on?”

Snape had one fingertip pressed firmly against Harry’s opening, a moment away from breaching him. Harry felt light headed and oddly floaty. His erection had come back in full force and he knew Snape must be very aware of it against his thigh.

“A few weeks,” he managed to reply.

“I see.”

And the finger pressed just that tiny bit harder and slid inside him. Just the tip. There was a slight movement, and a whispered lubrication charm, and then the finger was pressing deeper, moving smoothly and inexorably inside him. So different from the feel of doing it himself, so strange in contrast to all the other sensations buzzing around his body.

Harry moaned as the finger pressed as deep as it could reach, Snape’s other fingers pressing into the sore, red flesh of his buttocks.

“Why haven’t you asked this boy to fuck you, if you want it so much?” Snape asked conversationally, as he twisted his finger inside Harry, drawing it back and pushing it in again with a slick slide.

“No,” said Harry. “Not him.”

Snape drew his finger nearly all the way out and then pressed back in with two. Pressing in hard up to the second knuckle before pausing.

Harry groaned and gasped, pushing his hips forward then back as best he could, unable to properly control his movements when his feet couldn’t reach the floor.

“Lay still, Potter.”

Snape pushed in again, pressing both fingers in up to the hilt, then drawing them out even as he twisted them and pulled them apart.

Harry moaned with the pleasure of it.

“Like that do you, Potter?”

“Yes,” Harry sighed.

“Like having my fingers inside you, or like being bent over my knee and exposed?”

“Both. I like both.”

“Both, sir.” Snape drove three fingers into him, hard and fast, until he squealed with the burn. Snape held him there his fingers still, until he relaxed. Then began to fuck him slowly with all three fingers.

“You want me to take you like this, Potter? Bent over so you don’t have to see who’s fucking you?”

Harry took a moment to answer, taken up with the building pleasure and hazy warmth he was feeling. “However you want, sir.”

Snape continued to work him open, silently, only the sounds of being penetrated, of heavy breathing and the slick slide and slurp of the lubricant.

“Very well, then.”

The fingers were withdrawn, leaving him feeling odd. But before he could process it he was being rolled off Snape’s knee and onto his back on the desk.

“Pull your legs up, arms under your knees.”

Harry did as he was told as Snape tugged him into a better position by the hips. He could feel the edge of the desk running under his buttocks. Snape stepped away, looking him over.

“More. Display yourself for me, Potter. Show me you want it.”

Harry got his elbows under the crooks of his knees and hauled his legs up and out. Pulling his arse up and spreading himself open on the desk. “I want it,” he gasped. “Surely you can’t still doubt that?”

“No, I suppose not,” said Snape, exploring Harry with his eyes. With a snap of his wand Harry’s robe and vest, shoes and socks, vanished entirely, leaving him naked. “Better.”

Harry tried not to squirm, his cock twitching with his heart beat, thrusting awkwardly into the air between his legs. He did not feel experienced, lying here on his back like some sort of specimen for study. The heat running through him, making him sweat, contrasted with the chill in the room and made him feel slightly ill. Snape’s face was as unreadable as it ever was, his eyes dark. Harry thought he saw lust, desire… but in truth he couldn’t read the man. Didn’t understand the man. Didn’t care, he still wanted this. He had to have it, he couldn’t come this far and leave unsatisfied. It would be too humiliating. It was too humiliating, he still wasn’t sure Snape was actually going to see it through. Wasn’t sure this wasn’t just some elongated punishment, that the man might curtly order him out of the room at any moment, eyes glinting with a dark amusement.

Snape watched him, with terrifying patience.

Harry’s insides squeezed in a strange pleasurable terror. He could feel his face flush bright red, but he stared Snape down.

With a sudden glimmer of unidentifiable emotion, Snape unfastened the row of buttons that ran down his front with a stroke of his wand. Beneath his intimidating robes he wore an old fashioned, somewhat crumpled white shirt, that hung to the top of his thighs. With the heavy fabric of his outer layer gone, the front of his shirt was noticeably tented over his groin. Harry’s eyes dropped to that level automatically, only just visible past his own body.

Snape finally touched him again, one hand coming to rest on the inside of his thigh. Almost hesitant before it firmed around the warm flesh. His other hand cupping his own clothed erection, he moved the hand on Harry’s thigh to curve around his aching prick and Harry gasped in relief at the sensation.

Distracted by the hand teasing him, the thumb pressing into his slit and spreading moisture over the head of his cock, Harry didn’t realise Snape was doing anything else until he felt an unfamiliar press against the hole still slick from Snape’s fingers. Harry’s eyes shot open and found Snape again. An eyebrow arched in question.

“Yes,” Harry gasped.

And that was all it took, as Snape bore down on Harry with the weight of his body behind the thick cock that was slowly forcing him further open than he had ever been.

–

Harry didn’t make it to dinner, he just didn’t think he could handle it – neither the physical act of sitting on a hard wooden bench, nor the surreal concept of talking and eating with the other Gryffindor boys as if he hadn’t just been fucked in the ass by their Potions teacher. Not with Snape sitting at the teachers table, watching him. He went red just thinking about it. He went straight up to Gryffindor Tower and lay down on his bed.

He had done it. He had actually done it. With Severus fucking Snape. And it had been everything he might have hoped for, and a whole lot more he hadn’t even known to consider.

His trysts with Malfoy suddenly seemed childish, both of them eager and rarely lasting long, fumbling and torn between nervous and overexcited. He was certain he had never made Malfoy feel what he had just felt, by the time Snape had finally let him come Harry had been a babbling, pleading, mess.

He’d ridden on that edge of orgasm for what had felt like hours, Snape’s magic tightening around the base of his cock every time he thought he might reach it, as Snape fucked Harry slowly and deeply, then hard and fast, then just with the tip of his cock, then thrust all the way in and held himself buried there while he pinched and twisted Harry’s nipples until tears threatened, or played with the end of his weeping cock until Harry begged him to move, to fuck him hard, to please, please, please, let him come.

And when he finally had, Merlin, Harry had never felt an orgasm like it. He’d been so out of it he’d barely been aware of Snape finally coming inside Harry only a few minutes later. He’d lain flat out on Snape’s desk staring at the stars on the inside of his eyelids until Snape had brought him round with a sharp ‘Tergeo’. Snape had already been fully dressed and inscrutable again.

“Tidy yourself up, Potter,” Snape had said, though not as sharply as he once might have. “It’s nearly dinner time.”

He had been in Snape’s office since the end of class, nearly an hour and a half ago.

Snape somehow materialised by his side to support him when he nearly fell over as soon as he tried to stand up. His legs had been shaking and partly numb from where the edge of the desk had cut into him where he had let them dangle, and his head had turned dizzy at his overly quick attempt at being vertical.

But there had been no sentimentality, no discussion of what had happened, no arrangements for it to happen again, or protestations that it wouldn’t. Harry had dressed carefully, drunk a proffered glass of water, and limped out of the dungeons and up the many many flights of stairs to his bed.

Unable to keep his eyes open any longer, he fell asleep, his body pleasurably exhausted and uncaring of his mind’s bewilderment.

–

Severus arrived back in his office after an interminable dinner in the Great Hall. Just now, of all moments, he wanted to be alone. He wanted to be inside his own head. Not kowtowing to Lucius Malfoy’s little puppet dictatorship.

Potter hadn’t been present. He wasn’t surprised, nor was he worried. Potter had proven himself to be resilient if nothing else.

He locked and warded the door to his chambers and finally relaxed into the chair by the fire, summoning a bottle of goblin aged port and a glass.

Potter.

He pondered the idea of feeling shame or guilt, summoned up Lily’s form and expression. But all that came was fifteen year old James Potter, hair wild and eyes sparking with shock and disgust.

‘Are you crazy? I’d never! Never!’

Severus smiled to himself. “Never is such a very long time,” he said to himself.

Harry was not his Father, he was better. He was a slap in the face of his oh-so straight Father and his idiot of a Godfather. Even, as much as he had cared for her, his very best friend, a slap in the face of the woman who had broken his heart by claiming the man he had wanted for so long. Even though he had forgiven her for it. It did not change the fact that finally Severus had won. And his prize had come to him all by himself and begged for it, all while wearing James Potter’s face. Had broken so beautifully under his touch, sounding just like his Father at that age.

It was almost worth all the shit it had taken to get to this moment. This night was golden, and nothing could touch it.


End file.
